Into the night
by I hart Booth
Summary: One Night. One song. They feel the heat. BB, songfic, oneshot.


_**Oh it feels good to write a songfic. Even though I'm pretty sure it's not my best and it might be a bit OOC. And even though I'm not sure if it counts as fluff, and was being a bi-atch and messed up the formatting a little, but...I LOVE writing songfics. And I love this song. I mean, no seriously, I L-O-V-E this song. This song comes on and no matter where I am, driving in my car, cleaning my room, shopping in the store, I will, without question, start dancing. I'm not even sure if it works well with the whole B&B dynamic. But….I lovelovelovelovelovelovelove this song.** _

_**Into the Night by Santana feat. Chad Kroger**_

Booth wasn't really the 'party-hardy tap the keg and drink till you drop' type. He was more the 'brood in solitary silence and soak yourself with whisky' type. But one night, this night, he decided he wanted something more than his quiet apartment and a muted hockey game to heal the scars of the day. He wanted to feel the heat and the sweat and the beat of a drum pounding through his body. And he knew just where to find it.

Washington DC boasted some of the world's most prestigious libraries, some of the most impressive monuments…and a very healthy, thriving nightlife. He drove around the dark streets for a while, searching for a club that tickled his fancy, and then was put to the test of finding a parking spot that wasn't four football fields away. Both these tasks done, quite successfully, he stood in line for a while. Finally at the front, he found the club bouncer was a hefty man with six inches on him, tiny round sunglasses and dark skin. The man eyed him for a moment, before smiling genially and ushering him inside, easily making the cut in his partially unbuttoned red shirt and leather jacket.

Once inside he made a beeline for the bar, tempted to pound his usual shot of jack with four ice cubes. But something about the strobe lights and electricity flowing through the air made him order something with a little more taste and a little less bite.

He turned to scan the club patrons while he waited for his drink. Wall to wall playboy Bunny wannabes dressed in metallic tube tops and too much make up sipped fruity martinis while men just barely old enough to shave watched them trying to keep their admiration in their pants.

To be honest, he'd come here because the place practically flowed with fluff. Not the Care Bear on helium kind, the 'young adult angst' bachelorette party, my-girlfriend-just-dumped-me, "special brownies" sort of fluff. It was fun, for a night, to mingle with people who thought a Saturday night without a date was the end of the world, and to forget for a while that he had _real_ problems to deal with. He could think about the corpses and the paperwork and the friends being shipped back from fighting on foreign soil in boxes lined with American Flags, he could think about those things in the morning.

Tonight, he wanted drink, and he wanted to laugh and he wanted forget. And maybe, if he drank and laughed and forgot enough, he would dance.

Taking his screwdriver, more driver than screw, he left the crowded bar for a spot by the railing looking out over the dance floor. Sipping slowly, he watched the mass of people, jump and slide and flail about to the music as they danced, running purely on alcohol and adrenalin.

And he was right there at that same railing, seeing but not believing, when she took the floor.

**Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell,  
It was love from above, that could save me from hell,**

**She had fire in her soul it was easy to see,  
How the devil himself could be pulled out of me,**

Brennan had come a long way since the 'is my costume all right?' days. Accidental Meth snorting aside, she'd thoroughly enjoyed her time at the club with Angela. At first, only because it gave her the chance at unhindered observance of this underground counterculture thriving on of America's most stately of cities. She'd also grown very fond of the music often featured, the lyrics and heavy rhythm of rap and R&B, pounding and shaking her as it played, thrilled and released her in a way she'd not felt since her short anthropological study in Africa as a grad student.

To be honest, Brennan had fallen in love with 'clubbing' as Angela called it, so much so, that she'd actually alienated her friend of it. Every Saturday night she found herself coaxing Angela to come with her to enjoy a bit of the 'glugg glugg whoo hoo' life she'd been so enthralled with not too long ago. But eventually, she grew tired of the heavy sighs puppy dog eyes, and being the self assured independent woman that she was, she started going by herself.

She liked the drinks. She liked the music. She liked the smoky atmosphere. But most of all, she _loved_ to dance.

She loved the feeling of respect hitting her skin as she strode confidently out onto the dance floor. And that was exactly what she got, every, single, time.

After a few nights of careful observation and even a few question and answer sessions with some not-so-eager participants, she learned how to sway her hips, when to clap her hands and where to move her feet. But if the right song came on at the right time, she'd learned how to simply let go and let her body tangle with the music.

This was one of those songs.

**There were drums in the air as she started to dance,  
Every soul in the room keeping time with their hands,  
And we sang**

The crowd parted as she entered the floor and he got the distinct feeling this was not her first appearance at this club. He smiled as the music started to play a new song, admiring and annoyed at her for still having a part of herself he knew nothing about.

A strong bass beat kept the rhythm as a heavy guitar entwined itself with deep, raspy vocals. The lyrics sang and the harmony soared and he found himself moving with the music, slamming back the rest of his drink as the heat in the dark space skyrocketed.

He loved her. Truly, completely and unequivocally. He knew that, had known it from the very first moment he'd hugged her, and all the times after that had done anything but unconvince him. He also admired her and he respected her. But as he watched her dance, he was in awe. Her hips moved just the right way, her arms held high above her head, her eyes were closed and her hair fell loose, her mouth parted in heavy breath. He'd never seen her more sexy.

Setting aside his drink, he shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, pushing his way out onto the dance floor.

**And the voices bang like the angels sing,  
We're singing  
Ay oh ay oh ay oh ay,  
And we danced on into the night,**

She heard the change in the crowd's tone, their chanting stopped, replaced by a strange murmuring. The clapping never stopped though, and even if it had, she wouldn't have.

It wasn't until his hands were on her hips that she realized what the change had been about. No one ever joined her on the dance floor. Turning quickly, she jumped away as she felt a chest being pressed into her back. Her eyes widened to a painful degree when she saw who it was, and she was momentarily tempted to sprint to the nearest exit. But Booth met her eyes fearlessly, seeming to mistake her hesitance for evaluation.

His body began to move, rock and sway, flowing in ways she'd never seen him do before. The man had rhythm, she would give him that.

The crowd, having decided that he was worthy of their dance floor, erupted in cheers and the clapping was reinvigorated, nearly drowning out the song. Hesitance lacking, she began dancing again, only this time she kept her eyes open and trained on him.

And they danced.

**Like a piece to the puzzle that falls into place,  
You could tell how we felt from the look on our faces,  
We were spinning in circles with the moon in our eyes,  
No room left to move in-between you and I,**

Somehow they ended up pressed up against one another, nothing but nearly shear tops and sweat between them. Friction was a given, her tight jeans against his loose ones, creating a heat of explosive proportions. She threw her head back against his shoulder and his hands splayed out across her stomach, running across her waist and hips as she reached for his hair, wishing for their bodies to touch from head to toe.

The music was intoxicating and the small, humid, energy filled room was nearly narcotic. They didn't hunger and they didn't thirst. There was only the heat, and the steady, pounding rhythm of a throbbing bass drum.

**We forgot where we were and we lost track of time,  
And we sang to the wind as we danced through the night,  
And we sang**

Dancers crowded the floor, rap lyrics filled the air. But there was always the beat. Always the rhythm of the beat and as long as there was, they would keep on dancing, holding on to one another, never speaking a word.

**We danced on into the night,  
Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell,  
It was love from above, that could save me from hell**

**She had fire in her soul it was easy to see,  
How the devil himself could be pulled out of me,**

Booth never came to these kind of places. Brennan usually danced alone. But one night, this night they decided to feel the heat.

**And we danced on into the night**

**_Have you heard the song? Cuz you should hear the song. Seriously. Listen to it now...well, maybe after you review..._**


End file.
